Living with the Dead

HOPE

Robyn didn't ask any more questions after that. She didn't get a chance.

First Hope had to deal with the problem of getting Karl, unnoticed, through the stream of exiting fairgoers. He'd taken the T-shirt from the mutt – Gilchrist – and put it on backward to hide the blood on the front, then topped it with his jacket. To anyone drawing near, the skintight shirt riding up his abs clearly wasn't his. It might not have looked out of place on any of the strutting teens surrounding them, but when worn by an impeccably groomed guy Karl's age, it was noticeable. It didn't help that every time he so much as twitched his lips, the split reopened, trickling blood. Hope had Karl and Robyn wait in the shadow of a closed convenience store as she retrieved the car.

Once in the car, Hope put Robyn in the middle of the backseat, away from the windows, and instructed her to close her eyes for the trip. She had no idea whether the closed eyes would help keep Adele from Robyn, but it couldn't hurt. Earlier they'd picked out a hotel where they could get to a side door without passing a sign. It was about fifteen miles away, but it took almost an hour, as Karl traveled through residential areas, avoiding business districts and their signs.

When they finally reached the hotel, Karl parked at an unmarked side door. Hope checked them into a suite and let them in the exit. They bustled Robyn upstairs, Hope scouting ahead to cover signs. Then Robyn waited inside the doorway as Karl and Hope drew the blinds and emptied the room of every pen and comment card that bore the hotel's name.

Once Robyn came in, it was time for a more professional evaluation of her shoulder. Karl called his Alpha, Jeremy, the Pack's medical expert. The bullet had passed through with no serious damage. Jeremy said it should be seen by a doctor, but if the wound was properly dressed and checked, she'd be fine for a few days.

Robyn was ready to turn in. Somewhere between the fairgrounds, the endless trip and the furtive dash into the hotel room and the re-redressing of her wound, she'd apparently decided that Hope was right – the truth wasn't something she needed to hear.

They checked the bedroom one last time. Then Hope waited by the door and made sure Robyn was settled before returning to Karl on the sofa.

"On to patient two. Time to take it off for me."

The joke fell as flat as her smile. Karl had said little since meeting up with them in the field, and the low strum of worry flowing from him made her stomach twist. She'd hoped it was only concern over what Robyn had seen and heard, but even now, he stayed quiet, shucking his shirt, those vibes still pulsing.

"I gave her a reasonable story," Hope said. "Not perfect – nothing was going to cover all that. If she wants an explanation bad enough, she'll take that one, but we should discuss how we'll handle it if she doesn't."

It took a moment for him to nod. She couldn't tell if he'd been considering his answer or if he hadn't heard a word she'd said.

She continued to wait, hoping he'd pick up the conversation, make suggestions, but from his expression she knew he wasn't thinking of Robyn.

Hope brought over the first-aid kit. Other than that reopened split lip, he had only the gash on his chest that had ripped his shirt. She pulled a splinter from it. It looked as if he'd caught it on a broken branch. The rest of his injuries were bruises. Fighting in human form avoided fang and claw damage, but from the welt on his chest she suspected his ribs were bruised, maybe even cracked.

When she touched the welt, he didn't flinch, only blinked as if wondering what she was doing. "Those are fine," he murmured. "I just need to clean that cut."

He rose. Hope tapped his shoulder, telling him to stay sitting and she'd do it. He hesitated again, as if confused, before another nod and another murmur, this one unintelligible.

As she returned with a wet cloth, she said, "Robyn says that Gilchrist knew who Adele was, which suggests he didn't just happen onto your trail today."

"Hmm."

"We'll need to get the details from her tomorrow."

"Yes."

Hope cleaned and bandaged the wound, and still he sat there, as if in a trance, moving only when she asked him to shift positions, speaking only when prompted. And even though he kept his thoughts cloaked, the sharp pulses of his worry gradually dissolved into a steady flow of despair.

"It all worked out tonight," she said finally. "However tense it got, Robyn's fine, I'm fine, you've only got a few bruises and none of us need to worry about Gilchrist again."

Karl nodded.

"He never even laid a finger on me," she continued. "I felt him coming before he could sneak up on us. I got my gun out, got Robyn behind me…"

He nodded.

"And when he did pounce, I did the right thing – diving out of the way – but I still managed to fire off a round. I think I nicked him."

"You did."

"I'll admit, I did have a momentary blip there, when the chaos surged, but I didn't completely freeze up. I am learning, Karl."

"I know."

"Well, then, no harm, no foul, right?" Her laugh squeaked, and she stood there, fingers trembling around the first-aid kit, knowing she hadn't said the right thing. Damn it, why hadn't she said the right thing? Why didn't she know the right thing?

"The problem," he said after a moment, "wasn't you. It was me."

"But he wasn't after you. This has something to do with that clairvoyant girl, and if you weren't helping me with Robyn, he would never have found you."

"Never?"

"Probably not. And so what if he did? You handled it. We handled it. If you hadn't been there, he still would have grabbed Robyn – "

"Would he?"

"Prob – " She stopped herself. "Yes. Yes, he would have, and I would have had to shoot the son of a bitch and dig the shallow grave."

He shook his head. "He was only interested in Robyn as a means to an end. That end was getting you, and he targeted you because of me."

"Oh, sure." That squeak-laugh again. "Thanks a helluva lot, Karl. I'll have you know I'm quite capable of attracting asssholes on my own."

The lines around his mouth only deepened. "In the forest, you weren't overwhelmed by chaos from Gilchrist; you were overwhelmed by chaos from me. Fear, rage. I couldn't control it. Even knowing it was endangering you, I couldn't – "

He rose, walked to the window and stood there, looking out as if oblivious to the closed blinds. "Jeremy is always very cautious about who knows he's involved with Jaime. She's not a werewolf, and being with one puts her in danger. I told myself that didn't apply to us. You can defend yourself a hell of a lot better than Jaime Vegas. And I'm not the Alpha. I'm barely even a Pack member. There would be nothing for another werewolf to gain by hurting you, except to force me into a fight. And if they want a fight, they don't need to go after you. I never turn down a challenge."

"Exactly, so – "

"I've spent my life building a reputation, not caring how many enemies I made because having that reputation makes my life easier. If those enemies want revenge, they know where to find me. There's no other way to hurt me. Now there is."

"I'm careful, Karl. You know I am. If you need me to take more precautions, I will. More self-defense classes, more shooting lessons, maybe training on another weapon, like a knife. Or carry mace or pepper spray."

God, how pathetic did she sound? The words kept coming, each one underscored with a whine of please, please, please. Please don't leave me, Karl. I'll do whatever you want.

"You could bite me." Hope heard the words, the softest whisper, as if she barely dared give them voice, and she couldn't believe she was giving them voice, that someone else hadn't crept up behind her and spoken them.

Karl didn't move. Just stood there, back to her. He hadn't heard. Thank God, he hadn't heard. Then, slowly, he turned. The look on his face, the horror…

"No." The word was a strangled whisper as he stepped toward her. "Never, Hope. I would never – "

She reeled back out of his reach, her cheeks blazing.

"I-I-I – " She rubbed her throat as if she could push the words out. "I'm sorry."

She fled, stumbling, into the bathroom as he called after her. She locked the door and leaned against it. Burning tears of shame blurred the room. The doorknob turned one way, then the other. A pause.

Then a rap.

"Hope?"

"I-I'm having a bath."

Which was, quite possibly, the lamest excuse she could think of.

"Let me come in – "

"What I said, I didn't mean it. I'm wiped out and I'm worried about Robyn and I'm stressing over what she heard tonight, and I just – I need a bath."

Hope could sense him at the door, but he didn't answer. She had to follow through, but the tub looked an impossibly long distance away. She staggered to it and turned on the tap. Hear that? I really am having a bath.

She undressed and lowered herself into the tub without waiting for it to finish filling. Her words pounded against her skull.

You could bite me.

She couldn't believe she'd said that. Worse, even now, shaking and crying in shame, she wasn't sure she hadn't meant it.

Bile washed over her tongue.

In movies, she'd heard romantic heroines declare they couldn't live without their man, and she wanted to tell them to grow a backbone. But she needed Karl. Without him…

She couldn't bring herself to say she'd die without him, but in the last few years, there'd been times when she'd seen the abyss yawn before her, the chaos hunger grow from a craving to an all-encompassing I-must-have-it need, the demon whispering new ways to feed the hunger. She'd stared into that abyss and she'd known what she could become, and that if she ever became that, she would sooner die.

But she'd always had Karl to pull her back. To support her and teach her to deal with that darkness, to accept and control her demon the way he did the wolf. To tell her she'd be okay, she was doing fine, he was there and they'd handle whatever came.

Even if Karl walked away now, he wouldn't abandon her. He wouldn't stop pulling her back from the edge, being her friend. Just not her lover. She could live without that part of the relationship – she just didn't want to.

But everything Karl did – buying a condo in Philly, switching his territory to Pennsylvania, following her to L.A. – told her that he was committed to this relationship and he wasn't going anywhere. Even tonight, she knew he'd only been trying to figure out what he needed to change so she'd be safe with him around.

So why was she constantly worrying? Needing proof he planned to stay? Reminding herself that he might not stay and she needed to be prepared for that?

Because she wasn't prepared for it. What terrified her was not Karl leaving, but her fear of Karl leaving. She needed him so badly that she'd risk her life becoming a werewolf to keep him.

What kind of person did that make her? Not one she wanted to be.

"You're shivering."

Karl had picked the lock and come in without her realizing it. Now he was beside the tub, sitting on his haunches, his back against the door, hands folded on his knees.

He straightened. "Watch your feet. I'm going to add more hot water."

He bent at the taps, touched the water, then jerked his hand back. "It's ice cold, Hope."

She mumbled something about it cooling off too fast. Better than admitting that she was so out of it she'd sat in a tub of cold water without noticing.

Karl pulled the drain and Hope watched the water drop, the chug-chug of it echoing in the silent room. When it was two-thirds empty, he replaced the stopper, then nudged her feet farther from the faucet before turning on the hot.

Once it was refilled, he returned to his spot by the door without a word.

"I didn't mean it," she said after a moment.

"I hope not."

Hope's cheeks flamed. "I'm tired, Karl. Absolutely wiped out, and I just started babbling. I feel like an idiot for saying it. I don't want that at all. I was just… babbling."

He moved to sit on the side of the tub, where she had to look at him.

"You know it's not what I want, don't you?" he said. "That when I joke about the mating instinct and dragging you off to a cabin in the woods, I mean you. As you are. I don't mean – "

"I know."

Hope fixed her gaze on her toes bobbing over the water. He turned her face toward him, fingers resting on her chin.

"I mean it. That's not what I want. Consciously, subconsciously, unconsciously… I'm not fighting any temptation to turn you into a werewolf."

When she nodded, gaze down, he lifted her chin.

"You know that, don't you?"

Hope had never thought she was in danger of Karl biting her without her permission, as Clay had done to Elena, or that he'd ever find a way to do it "accidentally." But maybe she did worry a little that he'd prefer it. Werewolves weren't like other supernaturals. Like wolves, they preferred the company of their own kind.

"No," he said, as if reading her thoughts, his gaze locked with her, challenging her to read his vibes for any sign that he was lying. When he was satisfied she believed him, he pulled a washcloth off the rack and picked up a bar of soap.

"I'm not going anywhere, Hope," he said as he unwrapped the soap. "Tonight, I was just furious with myself for being too cavalier about the threat Gilchrist posed. Even before today I've downplayed the threat of you being attacked. I didn't want to admit that being with me might not be safe. I was thinking about how to resolve the problem, Hope, not how to run away from it. I need to make sure you understand the threat, and I need to teach you how to deal with it – how to fight a werewolf. That's all."

She'd known that. But she'd still flipped out. And the more she flipped out, the more her reaction – not his – terrified her.

He dipped the cloth into the water, squeezed it, lathered it up and wiped the back of her neck. "You picked up some dirt in the forest."

She bent her head forward, letting him wash. He moved down her back, moving in slow circles, the rough cloth sloughing away the night. Her eyes started to close.

He leaned her back against the tub, setting her head on the edge, then washed her shoulders. "I know I left you once."

She opened her mouth, wanting to say it didn't matter, it was forgotten. But it wasn't.

"I know I hurt you."

Again, she wanted to argue. But she couldn't.

"I know I said I won't leave again, but I also know that's not enough, and that the only way you're going to trust that I won't leave is if I don't."

He slid the cloth over her arms. "If this ends, Hope, it won't be me that ends it. I think you know that."

She twisted in the tub, rising, put her arms around his neck and kissed him. He scooped her up, dripping water, and carried her into the other room.